Close to the Borderline
by Wonder Twins of Newsies Fandom
Summary: Blink is dragged to an alternativelifestyle youth club, where he meets Mush... and begins to question everything he's ever known about himself. Collaboration between Frisky Wallabee and pennylayne.
1. Waiting for the Smack

Blink looked at his surroundings, wondering why he was here. This was a gay youth club. Last time he checked, he wasn't gay nor was he even questioning his sexuality in the least.

"Toby," he broached. "Why are we here?"

"Because I heard good things about their mozzarella sticks," he replied.

Blink gave him an incredulous look. "From who?"

He waved his hand and flashed a devious grin at him. Blink knew not to trust that grin from his friend.

"No one," he admitted. "But! Jeremy Patkinson said that the chicks here totally make out with each other and I kind of want to watch."

Of course. Tobias was being an idiotic guy about things, wanting to see girls swap saliva. Unfortunately for him, Blink noted as he looked around, there were very few girls in the club. Sure, there were small clusters in the sunken booths, but none of them were making out. The boys were dominating the tables up and around the soda bar and dancing to some frenzied house music. Blink glanced away. He so didn't want to look at sweaty guys dancing with each other.

Actually, he was surprised that his little town held so many homosexuals. They were a speck on the map in Michigan. Maybe they were from the other high schools in the next town over or something.

"So," Tobias said. "I'm going to head off to incite those girls into tongue action."

Blink nodded. "And I'll come when I hear the smack."

Tobias wagged his tongue at him before sliding through the crowd. He noted that his best friend filched a hot wing off of someone's plate as he slipped to the sunken, booth area. This came as no surprise to Blink, who knew that he was a chronic shoplifter, a true-blue kleptomaniac. It helped earned him the nickname Snitch in their school.

Still, Snitch was his best friend. Scratch that, his _only_ friend. After he was eight and had the accident with his mother, Blink stopped inviting friends over to his house. Things were just easier that way. Plus, he caught a lot of grief because of his name. His father was a subscriber to the 'carrying on the family name' thing and, for some inane reason, that was Blink. His father was Blink and he was Blink Jr. This became an issue in his youth when his uncle crudely pointed out the initials. Thus, they were Adult Blink and Kid Blink when they were in the same room.

He never lived it down around school and was known that 'that kid with the patch and the fruity name' throughout school. The patch was because of the accident; the name was because his parents undoubtedly hated him.

Blink shook his head and settled down at the bar. While he waited for the inevitable hand coming in contact with Snitch's face, he decided he may as well eat something. The bar was more of a concession stand: offering potato skins, nachos, hot wings, mozzarella sticks and various Coke products. Blink ordered the mozzarella sticks—Snitch had had him thinking about them—and a Diet Coke.

"Here you go," the woman behind the counter had a startlingly deep voice. "Eat up, hon."

Blink dunked a stick of fried cheese into the marinara sauce and chewed.

"Whoa," he muttered.

The sticks were good. They were _damn_ good. He stuffed it into his mouth and reached for another.

"Slow down, sweeties," the woman joked. "Don't choke yourself."

Of course, the second she said that, Blink started choking and coughing. Blindly, he reached for his Diet Coke and slurped noisily through the straw. Finally, the large lump of masticated cheese and breading went down heavily into his stomach.

"Told ya," she winked.

Blink felt a blush heat up his face. That was when he noticed that someone had joined him at the bar. It was a boy. Oh, God.

He was going to have to let the poor guy down and explain that he wasn't gay nor questioning. Then he realized that the guy was cute…from a heterosexual standpoint. He had skin like coffee but with cream and sugar added and an upturned nose. His eyes were like…melted Hershey kisses and he had fistfuls of kinky curls. In a manly way, he was undoubtedly attractive.

"Hi," he said in a sultry voice.

Blink put his drink down. "Um…hi."

"Is this your first time out?" he asked in that same voice.

He shook his head. "I'm not…"

He put a hand on his arm. "It's okay to hide it. Really."

"I'm not…" he tried again but his lips didn't seem to be able to form words that made sense. "Do you want a drink?"

"Why?" he smiled flirtatiously. "Do I look like I need one?"

That smile made Blink feel nicer than he was willing to admit. Not many people smiled at him.

"I'm Adrian," he extended a hand.

Tentatively, he took it. "Blink."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

Blushing still, he nodded. The touch of their hand ignited a feeling in him like a fire. It was pulsing in his belly, making his heart race. He put down Adrian's hand and stood.

"I have to go," he said hurriedly, voice catching. His hand almost vibrated from the warmth of Adrian's. His heart had leapt into his throat and it was frightening. He needed to get out of there.

"Snitch!" he yelled.

He turned around just in time to see a girl scowling at him before smacking Snitch across the face.

"Pig!" she exclaimed.

With speed reserved for The Flash, Snitch was at his side.

"Bye," Blink said hurriedly, grabbing Snitch and dragging him forcefully outside.

Everything was a blur, Blink realized, after they had touched only momentarily. He was panicking.

"What was that?" he asked. "And who was that guy?"

"No one," he said hurriedly. "It was no one. Let's go before she brings her friends to lynch you."

Snitch cast him a dirty look. "Nice. Shut up."

Blink ignored him. He was too busy staring at his hand and wondering why he had reacted so much to the boy touching him.

--

Mush sighed and slunk back to his table where his friends waited for him.

"You tried," David said supportively. "It's hard being flirtatious."

He sat dejectedly next to him and rested his head into his hands.

"Yeah," Jack squeezed David's arm. "And take it from the expert on sucking at flirting. I don't know how he got me."

David smacked him on the arm, which Jack twisted slightly and planted a small kiss on the tip of his nose. This just made Mush stew more.

"And we all know how stable _their_ relationship is," Spot put in.

"I just…" Mush bit his lower lip. "I want _someone_ to like me and he was cute…"

The others nodded their agreement.

"But!" Jack started laughing. "At this rate, they might as well stick your butt in the Smithsonian! Oldest Living Virgin!"

David hit him again. "You're not helping."

Mush knew that Jack was right. He was utterly virginal amongst his friends. After Jack's mother died and he inherited a rather handsome sum of money (and his father got thrown in jail for some reason Jack had yet to intimate), he suggested that they all come out to their parents. His reason was if they threw them out, he knew an old man named George Kloppmann who was willing to rent them a house. They did and it happened. Mush's mother, though, loved him and supported him but her "no good, rotten, son of a bitching boyfriend" kicked him out but good. They even moved to another town.

Thus, they all moved into the house and it was tough sometimes to get by, not to mention keep sane. Jack and David were going at it almost every night and Spot... well, Evan "Spot" Conlon was, to put it lightly, a whore. Not that Mush would ever say that to his friend, but it was kind of true. Almost every night he would go out to any given club and bring home a new guy, and they would compete with Jack and David for who could be the loudest during their sexual conquests (and lately it had become quite a close contest), and consequently it would keep Mush awake at night even though everyone in the house knew that he _had_ to go to school in the morning, _and_ be up at quarter to three to get on his paper route on time so he could at least make some sort of contribution, minimal though it was, to help pay for the rent and the food and the utilities.

Not that school was important to any of them. Well, except for David, who was a senior at Jacques Marquette High School along with Mush. Jack gave up on school in the middle of sophomore year when his mom died, and Spot quit at the beginning of junior year when he realized that school just wasn't any fun anymore without Jack to entertain him during his classes. Racetrack lasted until the first couple of weeks of their senior year, stated he felt "isolated and stunted" at school, which really meant he was just failing all his classes, and figured it would be easier to get his GED rather than have to sit through six more senior years... besides, he really wanted to just spend all his time looking for Mister Right so they could fall in love, get married (or something close to it), run far, far away from the right-wing confines of Michigan, and live happily ever after. David often lectured the three boys on their not seeing the value of education, especially when they get such a good one for free here in the great land of America, and on their utter lack of motivation, but to no avail. David Jacobs was hell-bent on going to college and making something of himself, but was held back by two things: an utter lack of funding for his college tuition and a niggling want to stay at home and take care of his aspiring rock-star boyfriend (who could play nothing but air guitar) and his wayward friends.

Mush sympathized with David. Well, most of the time he did. But right now, he didn't really want to sympathize with anyone – especially not if that someone had a steady boyfriend, when Mush didn't. All Mush wanted to do was feel sorry for himself.

Adrian "Mush" Meyers, at eighteen years, two months, and sixteen days old, was _lonely_.

--

"You've been staring at your hand for the past twenty minutes, Blink, what the hell did you do to it?" Snitch warmed his own hands in front of the car's heater, which they had turned on to full blast when they got in the car ten minutes ago. The two boys were still waiting for Snitch's old, beat-up Ford pickup, circa 1973, to warm up against the early-December night.

"Nothing," Blink said, pulling his gloves on and then shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

"Dude, are you okay? You're acting all weird." Snitch looked over at him, though Blink was surprised he could see through the combination of his coat, scarf, and wool cap pulled down almost past his eyebrows.

"Yeah," he replied, shrugging. "Just tired, and it's been a weird night, what with all the rampant homosexuality being shamelessly exhibited before my sweet, virginal eyes."

"Eye," Snitch corrected with a smirk tugging at the corners of his barely-visible eyes, and Blink punched him in the shoulder. Snitch just laughed and shook his head. "Doesn't hurt through gloves and forty-eight layers of clothing."

Blink grumbled to himself, then glared at his friend. "I still don't see why you dragged me to a _gay peoples'_ club."

"Told you... Jeremy told me you see girls just totally going at it with each other like there's nothing to it and I wanted to see it for myself." Snitch shrugged. "I mean, I could go about seeing it by way of other means, but I'm not eighteen yet and my dad watches the computer like a hawk." He turned the key in the ignition and patted the wheel. "And we're ready to go."

"You're gross," Blink said as they pulled out of the parking lot. "I don't know why we're still friends."


	2. A Less Masculine Martha Stewart

Two-forty-five in the morning on a freaking _Saturday _and Mush was awake. Not awake because he hadn't gone to bed yet, but awake because this was when his alarm had gone off to signal that it was time to get up, get out into the snow and try not to die of pneumonia while delivering papers. He stumbled out of his room in his heavy jeans and sweatshirt, rubbing the bleary sleep from his eyes and yawning.

"Morning, Mushie," Racetrack said from the couch, where he sat with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, watching some sappy love movie – this morning's chick-flick du jour appeared to be _From Here to Eternity_.

"Morning, Race." Mush mumbled his greeting, yanking his coat down from the rack and tugging on a ski cap over his unruly curls.

"Hey, Mush, you think I'll ever find somebody who'll love me?" Race looked sullenly up from the couch, munching on a giant mouthful of popcorn.

"Yes, Race, and if you'd quit watching all those stupid, sappy, romantic movies, you wouldn't feel so bad about it taking this long." Mush grabbed his house key off of the counter and headed out the garage to get his bike.

--

It was three-thirty, it was dark, and it was snowing. And yet Blink was out in his front yard, clad in flannel Woody Woodpecker pajamas, a bathrobe, and hiking books, whistling and making kissy noises in hopes that it would coax his mother's entirely worthless toy poodle, Colonel Alabaster, out of the shadows and back into the house.

"Come on, Allie, you know you want to come in... it's nice and warm in the house..." He shivered and pulled his bathrobe tighter around himself, grinding his teeth both in an effort to stop them from chattering and to keep from cursing his mother out loud. "It's dry in there, too, and there's no snow."

There was a squeak of wet tires on the sidewalk as they slid to a halt, and Blink heard the sharp yip of Colonel Alabaster right before he came running. He heard a voice groan and say, "God damn it, dog," before a newspaper came flying through the air and hit him square in the forehead.

"Ow! What the fuck?"

But the tires squeaked and swished on down the sidewalk through the snow.

Blink swore under his breath and scooped the dog up, stomping bad-temperedly into the douse.

"Mom, next time _please_ don't leave the door open. It runs up the heat bill, anyway." Blink shut and locked the door, dumping the wet and squirming dog onto the carpet.

"I didn't leave the door open! Someone tried to break in!" Blink's mother cried as she pulled the dog into her lap. "And my sweet Allie chased them off."

Blink sighed. "Goodnight, Mom."

--

The weekend passed by far more quickly than it should have, but Blink found himself sitting at his desk in homeroom on Monday morning, glaring at the blackboard with his chin propped on his fist. He looked over as Snitch stumbled in and collapsed into the seat next to him, groaning.

"What's your damage today, Snitch," Blink deadpanned, going back to staring at the front of the room.

"Fucking hung over," Snitch muttered, dropping his head to his desk.

"Well, if you'd learn to control your drinking when you go to parties, the occurrence of which is doubtful, maybe you wouldn't _get_ hangovers."

"I wouldn't have gotten so drunk if you'd come with me like I asked you to," Snitch said, reaching out to swat at Blink's shoulder, but only succeeded at barely brushing his shirt sleeve.

"Yes, you would have, and then I would have had to stay there with you while you puked and we'd probably have to sleep in your truck again like we did at that one party you dragged me to a couple weeks ago."

Snitch snickered despite himself. "God, that was fun."

"Yeah, if you call hypothermia fun."

Snitch sat up, rolling his eyes. "You never go to parties. And you never have any fun."

"I do too have fun," Blink said defensively.

"Oh yeah?" Snitch snorted. "I want names, times, and locations. And don't tell me Meatloaf, every night, in your room, because I will break all of his CD's that you own as well as your face."

Blink shot a cold glare in Snitch's direction and sunk down glumly into his seat as the teacher walked in.

--

Mush and David were walking down the hallway between first and second period. Mush always felt a certain anxiety about being in school in fear that his sexuality was written on him in gang letters somewhere. And if someone found it, he'd be beaten to death.

"You didn't have to stick up for me," Mush said, referring to the rather explosive argument Jack and David had had the night before.

"You heard that?"

Mush shrugged. "The walls are made from graham crackers."

David laughed hollowly before his face grew serious. "It's just that Jack needs to stop making fun of you for the whole virginity thing."

He nodded, thankful that David had indeed stuck up for him. However, there were still several problems niggling in the back of his mind.

"Yes, but did you have to call him a, what was it? A shitty-ass musician who needs to do more than loaf around the house all day like a three-toed sloth?"

He blushed as they rounded the corner to David's class. "No but…he'll get over it. I baked him a loaf of banana bread."

Mush laughed at that one. David was like a younger, more homosexual and slightly less masculine Martha Stewart and solved anything and everything with baked goods. Still, he had a feeling that the arguments between Jack and David had more to do with David's recent addiction to ABC Soaps rather than actually anything.

"But, really," he said. "Mush, I really respect you. You know, for waiting for the right guy…"

For a moment, Mush waited for him to finish but David just shook his head and went into his class. The music that signaled that there was one minute between classes began. Today was a horrid, banjo-heavy techno song mixed by the AV club. Mush hurried down the hall, mulling over what David had said. On all accounts, he had found the right guy. When they weren't fighting or sniping at each other—as in, when no one was looking—they were so sweet to each other. Mush wanted that.

He was so involved with his thoughts that he didn't notice when he collided into someone. Dizzily, Mush shook his head.

"Sorry…"

"It's okay…"

The voice was kind of familiar. Mush saw corn-colored hair and a bright blue…eye? Yes, the boy was wearing a patch over the left one. He hit his mental pause button and remembered Friday at the club. Oh, God.

The boy walked off, leaving Mush to stand in the hallway, staring. He'd heard that voice more than just once, he knew it, he knew he'd seen that boy more than just at the club...

The music shut off and the bell sounded, meaning Mush was late for class and still halfway across the school from the room he needed to be in.

"Crap."

--

"You wanna go out tonight, Blink?" Snitch wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck and stepped out into the snow to get to his truck. Blink followed, bundling himself up in his coat and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I don't know, Snitch, it's Monday..."

"So? Would it be any different if it were, say, Wednesday?" Snitch unlocked the door to his truck and climbed in, leaning over to unlock the passenger side. "We could go get dinner, or to a movie, or even to that club we went to last week."

Blink climbed in the truck, shaking his head. "I am _not_ going back to that club."

"Well, why the hell not?"

"Because... because, well, the people there are _gay_. And it's weird." He stared out the window as Snitch started the truck, shivering when the heater blasted freezing air into his face before switching to hot.

"Why's it weird? I mean, they're just teenagers, like you and me, they just happen to like people with more things in common with them than, say, the opposite sex."

"Yeah, but..." Blink really had no argument. He didn't want to tell Snitch about the boy he met there, Adrian or whatever, or the way his stomach did that weird flip-thing when their hands touched. "But... what if someone saw us going in there? We'll be killed. Dead, murdered, stabbed."

Snitch grinned. "...Raped?"

Blink punched his friend in the shoulder. "Shut up, _Tobias_."

"Fine," Snitch said, glaring. "Just for that, I'm going to drag you to the club with me tonight."

"I have homework."

"You do not!" Snitch pulled out of the parking lot now that the truck was finally warm, pushing his way through the snow-covered streets with a determined look on his face. Even with the complete lack of traffic, as _nobody_ lived in this town, driving here was tricky.

"Do, too." Blink slumped in his seat.

"Fine, Blink, what 'homework' do you have?"

"I have that Shakespeare paper."

"Oh, for Christ's sake." Snitch rolled his eyes, looking over at Blink. "That's not due until the end of the semester and that's not until _February_. Now quit making lame-ass excuses. You're coming with me."

"Snitch, I really don't want to."

"And I don't want to drive this piece of shit truck anymore, but sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to, now, don't we?" Snitch pulled up in front of Blink's house. "I'll pick you up at seven-thirty. Wear something sexy for me," he said with a wink.

"I hate you," Blink said, climbing out of the massive truck.

"Love you too," Snitch cooed as Blink slammed the door.

--

"Anybody wanna come with me to the club?" Spot wandered into the living room, running gel through his hair. When the rest of the boys stayed silent, he sighed. "Come on, I don't want to go alone."

"You won't be leaving alone, so why do you need company when you arrive?" Racetrack continued staring at the television, watching yet another sappy love story.

"Because I don't want to look like a loser. Come on, Race, maybe tonight will be your lucky night and you'll find your one true love or your soul mate or your life partner or whatever the hell it is you're looking for."

"Nobody worthwhile goes to the club on a Monday night." Racetrack rolled his eyes.

"Well, maybe someone worthwhile who's never been before doesn't know that and will be there tonight." Racetrack just shook his head and Spot gave up and moved on to begging Jack and David to go. Jack just turned him down and David mumbled something about it being a school night and a new snickerdoodle recipe he wanted to try. "Fine. I bet Mush will go with me." He turned and went up the hallway to Mush's room. "MUSH!"

Mush opened his door, a random book in his hand. "What?"

"You wanna go to the club?"

"Spot, I don't know... I mean, it's a school night, and I have to get up for my paper route in the morning--"

"We won't be gone long." Spot grabbed Mush's arm. "Put your book down, put on your shoes, let's go. I need to find someone."

"Spot, can't you go trolling for people to sleep with on your own?" Mush set his book on his dresser and slipped into his shoes.

"I could, but what fun would that be? Come on, let's go!"

--

"I don't know why you dragged me here. This place is dead. D-E-A-D, dead." Blink slumped into a booth, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm so happy that you can spell," Snitch said, looking around the room.

"How long do we have to be here?"

"Shut up, those girls over there are about to kiss." Snitch leaned forward in his seat, looking over at another booth. "Damn it! They saw me!"

"You're creepy. I'm going to go get a soda." Blink stood up and walked towards the bar, then stopped when he saw someone sitting at it... someone who looked familiar, with that creamy-coffee skin and those tight curls that Blink just wanted to grab fistfuls of and...

_What the hell_?


	3. Damn Those are Sexin' Mozarella Sticks

Blink spent the entire week being haunted by that boy. He also spent every day at school going through the hallways as fast as he could and looking around to make sure he was nowhere in sight. But he seemed to see him everywhere. In the paperboy that hit his window with the early edition every morning, even in his dreams now. And his dreams were getting pretty weird.

Friday night, Snitch dragged him back to the club and Blink feared he'd run into that guy again. That was the last thing he wanted, but at the same time, the first thing he wanted. Somewhere deep down, he liked the way he felt when Adrian, or whatever he had said his name was, looked at him... but he hated it, too, because it was _not_ okay.

"Try not to just sit around tonight, okay? Have some fun," Snitch said as they walked in the door of the club.

"You know, with as much as we come here, I'm beginning to wonder about you." Blink looked around, at the packed dance floor, the booths and tables full of happy, talking, laughing teenagers.

"You know you're here for the lesbians just as much as I am."

"God, you're gross." Blink sighed. "And pathetic. You know you're never going to get any action out of them. There's a reason they call them _lesbians_."

"Then why's that one eying me?" Snitch pointed to a girl standing across the room, smiling at him and winking.

"Maybe she thinks you're a girl." Snitch elbowed him in the ribs for that one.

"You're a douche. And I'm gonna go talk to her." He smoothed his hair down and straightened himself.

"What about me?" Blink felt truly abandoned.

"I don't know," Snitch said, waving a hand as he walked off. "Dance. Or order some mozzarella sticks or something."

Blink sighed and followed Snitch's advice, ordering the mozzarella sticks. He couldn't help it. They were so delicious. He did get a good laugh, though, as he noticed the bulge in the front of Snitch's "girl's" pants as they walked off toward the dance floor together.

He sat down in an open booth with his mozzarella sticks, munching on them and sulking... though it was a little hard to be unhappy with something this fantastic in your mouth.

Blink's mood was lifted a little when the song they were playing switched to a pretty awesome techno remix of Meat Loaf's "I'd Do Anything for Love." He actually smiled a bit, because Meat Loaf was his favorite artist of _all time_, and though this song was overplayed, it was still really good. He found himself singing along quietly after a little while.

"So," a voice said from behind him, "did you ever wonder what it is he won't do for love?" The voice was embodied by a smallish boy with short, light brown hair and bright blue eyes, who slid into the seat across from Blink with a smile.

"Um..." Blink choked down a chunk of deep-fried cheese. "I guess it doesn't really matter. I mean, it's about how sometimes, when you're in love, you'd do anything for that person but there's always that one time when they ask too much of you and that's just the straw that breaks the camel's back, so to speak."

"Uh... huh..." The boy cocked an eyebrow, nodding slowly. "That's fascinating." He paused for a minute, then smirked. "I'm Spot." He extended his hand.

"Blink." He shook the boy's hand.

"So, you come here often?"

What a line. This kid was so creative. "Not really. This is, like, my third time here, I guess. My friend keeps dragging me here so he can try and get into lesbians' pants."

Spot laughed. "Well. Good luck to him with that. Where's he at?"

"Oh, he's on the floor, dancing with a guy who he thinks is a girl." Blink turned around and pointed at the dance floor.

"With Ky, you mean?" Spot started laughing hysterically. "Oh, that's classic! He's in for a big surprise later!"

Blink grinned. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So, you particularly interested in being here?" Spot filched a mozzarella stick off of Blink's plate.

Blink shrugged. "Not really, no."

"Well, my roommates and me are having a party. You wanna come?"

"Uh... I don't know. I don't usually go off to parties with people I don't know."

Spot smirked. "Well, my name's Evan Conlon, but all my friends call me Spot, and you can, too. I'm eighteen, even though I know I look like I'm, like, fourteen. I drive a Camaro, I don't go to school, I'm a big fan of White Snake, I live with my four best friends because my parents kicked me out for being gay, and I hate peas." He ate another cheese stick and grinned. "There. Now you know me. Let's go." He stood up and grabbed Blink's arm, leading him out of the club.

As they climbed into Spot's crappy old Camaro, Blink arched an eyebrow. "So where do you live?"

"Kind of close to downtown, I guess," Spot said as he started the car.

"Oh. Me, too."

Blink entered the modest one story to be confronted by the smell of freshly baked cookies and three boys. There were no parents to be found and Blink wondered if the boys were brothers. They all, except the short kid on the couch, looked to be about his age. A curly haired, Jewish-looking boy was the one for whom Blink could blame that heavenly aroma. It made his mouth water. A tall boy with angular features was complaining he was full while the other one forced the baked goods upon him.

"Come on, David," he bemoaned, clutching his stomach. "I'm full!"

The short boy who, for some reason, was watching _You've Got Mail_ shushed him.

"These are my roommates," Spot said with a smile. "Wanna see my room?"

Before Blink could respond, Spot ushered him into a small room near the family room. It was simple with purple sheets and red walls. He suddenly knew what he was getting himself into. This became more evident when Spot threw him up against the door, practically mauling him with his lips.

"Whoa!" he said, surprised, pressing his hands to Spot's chest and trying with all his might to push him away. The boy was stronger than he looked. "I'm straight."

Spot frowned, still pressing against him. "Coulda fooled me. Besides, I'm _great_ at helping sexual identity crises."

"I bet you are, but…I should go."

"You don't have to," Spot said, unbuttoning Blink's jeans and slowly sliding his hand in.

Blink blushed, yanking Spot's hand out of his pants before it could touch his penis, and shoved him away. He abruptly turned to leave…and found himself face-to-face with that boy Adrian. What the fuck? Why couldn't he escape him?

"Hi," he said in a rushed tone, pushing past him.

The curly-haired boy in _The Little Mermaid_ tee-shirt, the baker, turned to him.

"Do you want some cookies before you go?" he asked, smiling.

Blink didn't answer him. He was already halfway out the door.

Mush turned to Spot, glaring. "What. Did. You. Do."

"What?" Spot grabbed a cookie off of the stove, popping it into his mouth. "I met him at the club, and he was all by himself... well, I mean, his friend was there but he was busy thinking that Ky was a girl and that he was going to get some action, but that's not the point. He was by himself, so I invited him over here. I said we were having a party, which we _usually_ are but apparently you guys are _deadbeats_ tonight, and so I took him back to my room, assuming I'd be getting some, and then he all freaks out on me and runs out."

"Yeah, probably because he's straight," Mush said, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked not unlike a sulky two-year-old when he did this, but he didn't really care. He was pissed, and rightfully so.

"Please, Mush, no guy with a body like that, or _hair_ like that, can possibly be straight." Spot rolled his eyes and swallowed his mouthful of cookie. "Besides, if he's straight, what's he doing at the club? Don't you think he's a little out-of-place there?"

"Maybe his friend that he's always with brings him there... you know, the one that all the girls are warning each other about?"

"But why would he agree to go more than once?" Spot smirked. "Perhaps because there's something about it that he _likes_..."

"Or because of the mozzarella sticks," Racetrack chirped from the couch. "They're totally worth going there for, even if you aren't gay."

"They are really good," Jack added.

Even David piped up. "I can't even make appetizers that good."

"Would you guys shut up?" Spot glared at the boys from the kitchen. "You aren't even part of this conversation!"

"Spot, why can't you, for once, just think with the head _above_ your shoulders?" Mush's eyes burned and color was starting to rise up in his cheeks. "Why do you have to fuck, or try to fuck, every single poor, unsuspecting person who has the poor fortune to cross your path?"

Spot blinked. He'd heard Mush swear before, but never at _him_. He'd never even seen Mush get really angry before. "Ouch, Mush."

"Oh, _you're_ hurt?" Mush flung his arms up in the air and Spot actually flinched. "Don't you know who he _is_?" He glared. "Did you _not_ see me get up and actually take a chance introducing myself to him and _flirting _with him last week?"

"I didn't know that was him."

"How many people in Michigan do you know that are _that_ good-looking and fucking wear eye patches?" He was actually shouting now. Mush Meyers _never_ shouted... at anyone.

"Mush, I'm sorry."

"No, you're not! You're never sorry!" Mush's fists clenched at his sides. "You're never sorry because you never think of anyone but yourself."

He stomped up the hallway and into his room, slamming the door. Kicking at his dresser, he collapsed onto his bed to pout.

--

Blink trudged home in the snow, shivering a little, although he couldn't actually feel anything. He was numb, shocked, not by the fact that he had just been pretty much molested, but by the fact that he found himself way more than just a little bit aroused by it. It was worsened by coming out and being face-to-face with that Adrian boy who was constantly popping up in his life. There was something about that boy that, when combined with low-grade sexual assault, or even _alone_ lately, caused an irritating stirring in Blink's "nether regions," as Snitch was prone to say.

He kicked at a pile of snow in frustration as he turned up his front walk. This was _not_ okay.

"Oh, Blink, baby!" His mother came running to him as he came to the door, clad in a frilly pink apron and matching oven mitts over her jeans and sweater.

"Hi, Mom. What's with the getup?"

"Oh, I... I had the strangest urge to cook something, so I thought I'd whip a little something up. Are you hungry?" She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the kitchen. "I made lasagna, and Swedish meatballs, and some scones, chocolate chip, I know they're your favorite... um, and I made buffalo wings, and a carrot cake..."

Blink stared at the kitchen counters covered in a wide array of foods, his mouth hanging open. "Mom... what are we going to do with all of this?"

"Well, I figure it'll all get eaten at some point."

"I don't think the fifth regiment of the U.S. Army could eat all of this before it went bad, Mom." He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. "When did you stop taking your medication?"

"I don't need it," she said shrugging.

"_Mom_," Blink groaned.

"What? It's not like my life depends on me taking it." _Mine very well might_, Blink thought morosely. "And besides, all it does is make me..." She stopped mid-sentence, looking him up and down with her eyebrows drawing together. "Honey, why are you all wet?"

"Because there's snow outside and snow is wet."

"But how did you get _that_ wet? How long were you outside?"

"Maybe forty-five minutes... I walked home."

His mother gasped. "From _where_?"

"Just a few blocks away, Mom, it's no big deal." Blink shrugged.

"_No big deal_? What if someone saw you? What if you were followed? Why didn't you have Tobias give you a ride home? What's wrong with you, Blink?" She looked panicked as she paced the kitchen floor.

"No one followed me, Mom, no one's going to--"

"We have to lock the doors and close all the curtains. _Now_. Where's Colonel Alabaster?" She began to walk through the house, calling the dog and clapping her hands.

Blink sighed heavily and slumped against the kitchen wall, sliding down to the floor and drawing his knees to his chest.

This night was just getting worse and worse.

--

Mush hadn't slept all night. He was still steaming when his alarm went off for him to get up and start his paper route. Pounding a fist down on the little clock radio, he pushed up from his bed and tugged on his boots, heading out of his bedroom and into the freezing pitch-blackness that was the garage.

He rode his bike out into the snow, watching his breath go out in front of him in short, angry puffs. As he threw the newspapers into people's lawns, protected from the snow in their little plastic bags, his mind stewed. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he was this furious with someone. Not even when his mother's bastard of a boyfriend threw him out of his own home (which belonged to his _mother_, not that stupid son of a bitch), saying he was a "worthless little faggot."

Mush had thought it to be impossible to get any angrier than he was at that point, but Spot had really proven him wrong. He'd never really been mad at any of his friends before, especially not his roommates, and it only further infuriated him that Spot's actions could get to him like this.

Of course, Spot _was_ trying to sleep with the first guy Mush had tried to flirt with in a long time.

The bastard.

He threw another newspaper, harder than he expected, and jumped a little when he heard it hit a window.

The front door to the house flung open and someone stood in the doorway in a bathrobe. "Would you learn to throw, pal?"

The voice sounded familiar and very agitated. Not unlike how Blink sounded when he ran out of Mush's house a few hours earlier.

"Sorry," Mush muttered, riding on through the slush on the sidewalk.


	4. Why Can't We Be Friends?

When Blink got home that Monday after school, the phone was ringing. Snitch, per usual, plopped on the couch in his wet Doc Martins and made himself at home.

Blink rolled his eye and picked up the phone. The phone was old and rotary, a memento from his grandmother who had occupied the house before his mother and him.

"Hello?" he said into the cracked avocado plastic.

"That's how you greet your father, kiddo?" a jocular voice laughed.

Blink paused. "Dad? Why are you calling?"

"What? I need an excuse to call my own son?"

"Apparently not," he stated. "Since you didn't need one to leave."

There was a long pause. Blink shifted his weight so he leaned on the counter as to not pull on his muscles and cause them to ache from the horrible phone.

"Come on, Blink, don't be like that. I was being smothered," he said. "Your mother…she…was sucking me dry."

He sighed. They had had this conversation—or some variation of it—numerous times. His father refused to take responsibility for ditching them in his wife's hour of need. He had managed to last four years but, when Blink was twelve, got the hell out of dodge. He wanted to tell him that for the past five years, it was sucking _him_ dry and smothering him when she refused to take her meds or didn't take the right ones and hated him for being healthy and young. He wanted to tell him all of that but he didn't.

"Sure, dad," he said tiredly. "Whatever."

"Aw, Kid, don't take that tone with me."

"What tone?"

"That pissed off tone."

There were no nuances in his tone to betray him as being pissed off. He mentioned this to his father.

"I can tell, Kid," he said. "Hey, listen… I've got a free weekend coming up and I was thinking maybe we could go fishing."

"It's December. There's no such thing as fishing in December."

"We could go ice fishing." He sounded desperate.

"I don't like fish, anyway, Dad."

"Well, will you still come out and spend the weekend with me?"

"Why?"

His father sighed. "Because you're my son and I want to spend some time with you."

"What, once every six months?"

"Kid, don't do this. Please."

"Fine." Blink bit down on his lip, resisting the urge to say something he might or might not have regretted later. "I'll think about it."

"Okay. Let me know. And... tell your mom hi for me."

"Will do," he lied. "Bye."

He put the phone back in the cradle, not bothering to listen to his father's next reply.

"Wow," Snitch remarked. "That was so warm; I think I need my gloves again."

"Get your shoes off of the couch," Blink commanded.

He slumped next to Snitch on the threadbare couch, feeling exhausted like he always did after he spoke to the dad.

"Blinky?" his mother mewled from her room. "Who was on the phone?"

"Grandma, Mama," he called. "She wants us over to dinner Sunday."

There was a small sob followed by, "I don't wanna!"

"That's what I said," he continued the lie.

He let his head fall onto Snitch's stretched-out legs, feeling spent.

--

"Look, Mush," David said, setting a tray of cranberry-orange muffins on the counter, "I know you're mad at Spot, but you can't keep this up forever."

Mush sighed, leaning an elbow on the kitchen table where he sat and propping his head up on his hand. "It's not like he's done anything to make me forgive him."

David put a muffin on a plate and set it in front of Mush with a glass of juice. "He apologized to you, Mush. When does Spot Conlon ever apologize to anyone?"

"Exactly. Which makes it hard for me to believe him." He tore off a piece of the muffin, chewing it.

"Or maybe it should be a reason for you _to_ believe him." David sat down next to him at the table, sighing. "You two not talking is making everything around here really awkward."

Mush, impressed with the muffin, continued eating it. "Yeah, but--" he swallowed, then took a drink of orange juice and stopped. "These are really good, Dave."

"Thanks."

"You make 'em from scratch?"

David grinned. "Like there's any other way to bake.

Mush nodded and continued. "Anyway, what I was going to say was, I think Spot needs to think about what he's doing with his life and how it affects the people around him."

"I think he does. Or at least he did Friday night."

"I doubt it." Mush pouted and finished off his muffin, and David promptly brought him another one.

"No, really," David said as Mush peeled the paper off of the muffin. "You should've seen the way he looked when you went back to your room. He looked all lost and hurt and sad."

"Impossible. Spot Conlon has no feelings. He is incapable of human emotion."

"Everyone has feelings, Mush," David said.

Mush sighed. "Dave, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"How come you're always so level-headed? How do you do it?"

David smiled and stood up, turning the oven off. "Probably the same way you're always so nice to everybody." He leaned down and kissed the top of Mush's head just as the front door swung open.

Spot walked in, tailed by a tall boy with shaggy, dark hair. He was quiet as he walked into the kitchen and started to head up the hallway.

"Hey, Spot," David said, smiling. "Do you guys want some muffins?" He picked the tray up off the counter and held it out to the pair of boys.

Spot rolled his eyes and took a muffin off the tray. His companion followed suit and they finished the muffins quickly, to David's pleasure.

"These are really good," Spot's companion said, smiling. "What kind of mix do you use?"

David stared, wide-eyed and red-cheeked, for a moment, before plopping the tray down on the counter and walking quickly out of the kitchen.

--

Lunch on Tuesday was noisy and crowded as usual, and Blink and Snitch decided to forgo the cafeteria and plop down with their lunches in the hallway instead. Snitch went about his business of bugging Blink to spill the details of his disappearance from the club Friday night, and when Blink refused, he shook his head in frustration.

"Whatever, Blink. I don't even want to know, anyway." Snitch sighed, standing up. "I'm going to get a soda. You want one?"

"Nope." Blink bit into his sandwich, leaning his head back against the wall as Snitch wandered off. No sooner had he swallowed the mouthful of ham and cheese than a body planted itself at his left.

"Hey," the person said.

Blink sighed, irritated that he had to turn himself almost entirely around just to be able to see this person. As he did, he was further irked to find Adrian.

"Oh. Hey." Blink swallowed hard, trying to find anywhere to look than at this boy's face.

"Look, um... I just wanted to apologize for my roommate, Spot. You know, the one from Friday, who... yeah, you know. See, he's... he's kind of got this problem." Adrian scratched his head.

"What, does he have to handle some guy's junk once a week or he goes into a manic-depressive low?"

Adrian smirked. "No, his problem is that he's a whore."

"Ah. Well. At least someone realizes that." Blink smiled.

"Yeah," Adrian said, laughing a little bit. "But I figured I'd apologize for him, since he'll never do it, as he'll never see anything he does as wrong. And I wanted to let you know that... well, not everyone who lives there is like that. Just Spot, really. Jack and Dave are really nice and they're together and they're not whores. And Race, he's just, you know... he's a little on the lovesick side but there's no one on the receiving end of it." He smiled. "And me... well, I'm just me, and I'd like to think that I'm nice. So basically, no one else is going to try to molest you."

"Uh... huh..." Blink nodded.

"So, um. We... we could be friends, if you wanted." He actually blushed beneath his dark, oatmeal-colored complexion.

"Oh." Blink smiled, shrugging. "Yeah. Okay."


	5. The Ambiguously Gay One in the Polo

Blink sat on the bicycle rack outside the door of the school, staring out at the snow. He looked down at his watch, sighing. Two-forty-three. He still had forty-seven minutes to wait until Snitch, having shown up to school that morning late _and_ hungover _again_, got out of detention, but he'd still rather sit and wait in the cold for a ride from Snitch than walk home in the snow and deal with his mother.

The jingling of a bicycle lock pulled Blink from his train of thought. He looked over to see Adrian retrieving his bike.

"Hey," Blink said, smiling a little.

Adrian looked up, a bright smile taking over his face. "Hey! What are you still doing here?"

"Waiting for my friend to get out of detention. What about you?"

"Oh, I was talking to one of my teachers. How long do you have to wait?"

"'Til three-thirty." Blink shrugged, zipping his coat up a little more. "Once he's done being a juvenile delinquent, we'll figure out something to do."

"Why don't you just go home until he gets out of detention?"

"Because I don't particularly enjoy being at home. Especially when I have to go home by myself." Blink adjusted his eye patch and pulled his cap down over his forehead, sighing.

"Oh." Adrian nodded. "Well, if you wanted to, you could come to my house for a while. It's better than staying out here in the snow, at least."

Blink thought over the idea for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I could."

The boys headed off, trudging through the dirty snow on the sidewalks, with Adrian walking his bicycle at his side. They walked for a while without saying a word, only the sound of the snow crushing wetly under their feet punctuating the silence with just a hint of awkwardness.

As they turned onto Adrian's street, Adrian looked over at Blink. "So I'm pretty sure Spot isn't home, so you should be safe from any sort of molestation."

Smirking, Blink shrugged. "I've gotten over it. Mostly." He let out an easy laugh, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. "Well, except for this recurring nightmare I have..."

Adrian laughed along with Blink and headed up his front walk. "I still feel really bad about that."

"No worries," Blink said, smiling at the other boy as they stood together on the porch. "Like I said, I've gotten over it."

"Okay." Adrian unlocked the front door, leaving his bicycle next to the porch with intentions to put it away in the garage later. "Well, come on in, and I hope you're hungry, because if you're not, you're screwed."

Blink arched an eyebrow, then followed Adrian inside. The house was warm and smelled deliciously sweet.

"Hello?" Adrian called out as he took his coat off, and his curly-haired roommate appeared in the kitchen doorway, clad in oven mitts and a frilly pink apron and holding a pan of steaming cinnamon rolls. "Hey, Dave. Smells good. Um..." He gestured to Blink, smiling. "This is Blink."

David looked Blink over, quirking a knowing eyebrow. "Hi, Blink." He smiled, nodding to the pan of baked goods. "These will be cool in a few minutes, and then I'll frost them and you guys can have some."

A taller boy appeared behind David, grinning. As he wrapped his arms around his waist, he said, "I'd like to let you frost my cinnamon rolls." David blushed and mumbled something incoherently in response, and then a little orange streak appeared across the floor and Adrian yelped.

"Ow!" He put his hand to his leg. "What the..." He plucked a small, fluffy orange kitten off of his pant leg and held it in front of his face. "What is this?"

"Oh, that's Muffin," David said, grinning. "He's Jack's."

The boy behind him, presumably Jack, laughed. "He was supposed to be Racetrack's, you know, to cheer him up, but he liked me more. He seems to like you, though, Mush."

"I think my leg is bleeding." Adrian held the cat out to Jack. "Here. You take him, I gotta go find a band-aid."

Jack stepped forward, taking the kitten and pulling it to his chest. "It's okay, Muffin, Daddy will take care of you. Uncle Mush is just a meanie."

Adrian rolled his eyes, then turned to Blink. "Well, what do you want to do?."

Blink shrugged. "Don't care, really."

"Want to watch a movie or something?"

"I guess." Nodding, Blink followed Adrian into the living room, where the short boy he'd seen the first time he'd been there was curled up on the couch, chewing a cinnamon roll with his mouth open and intently watching an episode of _Sex and the City_.

"Hey, Race?" Adrian leaned against the door frame, his voice soft and sweet. "You think maybe I could take over the TV?"

The shorter boy waved a hand at him absentmindedly, popping another hunk of cinnamon roll into his mouth. He sighed dreamily as Mr. Big kissed Carrie on the television, and turned to the doorway as soon as the credits started rolling. "Mushie, who do you think will be the Big to my Carrie? Do you think I'll ever find him?" His brown eyes were wide and sad, and there was a slight pout on his icing-smudged mouth.

"I don't know, Race. Why do you watch this stuff, anyway?"

"Because it makes me feel better. I'm depressed."

"You know what else would make you feel better?"

"What?"

"Lasagna. A big, heaping plate of lasagna, with a side of garlic bread and cannoli."

Race rolled his eyes at the stereotype and threw a chunk of cinnamon roll at Adrian. "Go steal a bike, Mush."

Blink laughed and got a strange look from the boy on the couch, so he shut up. Adrian looked over at him, then shook his head. "Sorry. Race, this is Blink, Blink, this is Racetrack."

"You look familiar," Racetrack said, staring at Blink by the dim light from the television set.

"I was, um, your roommate brought me... I..." Blink stammered, pulling his hat off and dragging a hand through his hair.

"He's been here before," Adrian interjected, and Blink smiled at him in gratitude. "Anyway, Race, can we use the TV?"

"Yeah, I guess. I was done in here, anyway." Racetrack stood up, retrieving his DVD from the player and heading off up the hallway.

Adrian turned on the overhead light, looking through a stack of movies on the table. Blink still stood in the doorway, looking around the suddenly illuminated room. With a couch, a couple of chairs, a coffee table, and the entertainment center, it was clear that the house was inhabited solely by males. Compared to the frilly (if slightly neurotic) feminine décor of his own home, Blink thought it was perfect.

"So how come they call you Mush?" Blink asked, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Um, back in elementary school, Jack said my skin looked like oatmeal, y'know, 'cuz of the color, and Racetrack started talking about how his mom called oatmeal mush and so the two of them started calling me Mush and it stuck."

"Does everybody call you that?"

"All my friends, yeah. My mom's pretty much the only person who calls me Adrian. Well, and you, but... you can call me Mush if you want."

Blink smiled. "Okay, I might."

Adrian, or Mush, Blink wasn't sure which yet, turned around, holding a DVD case. "Um, Blink?"

"Yeah?"

"You can take your coat off. We do have heat here."

Blink looked down, noticing he was, in fact, still clad in his large, downy coat that was rather reminiscent of a huge black marshmallow. "I... I guess I didn't even realize I was wearing it. What should I do with it?"

"Just throw it over that chair there." Mush, Blink decided he'd call him, pointed to one of the chairs, and Blink nodded, unzipping his coat slowly and draping it gingerly over the back of the chair. He looked down at his simple long-sleeved tee-shirt, suddenly very aware of how small of a barrier that strip of cloth was between his skin and the outside world. In a house full of homosexual teenage boys, he felt _very_ naked.

Blink crossed his arms over his chest, tried to look anywhere but at Mush's face. He fixed his eyes on the movie case in the other boy's hand, nodding towards it. "So what're we watching?"

Mush laughed and held up the case; the front said _D2: The Mighty Ducks_. "I just found this one, is it okay?"

Grinning, Blink nodded. "Funny story, that's my favorite movie."

"No way! Mine, too!"

The boys laughed and Mush put the movie in the DVD player before flopping down onto the couch. "Sit down, make yourself at home," he said, looking up at Blink. "It's not exactly comfortable watching a movie standing in the doorway." He picked up a pillow and a couple of magazines from the other end of the couch, nodded to it. "You can sit there. Hey, here's my _Sports Illustrated_! I've been looking for this for like, two weeks."

"You read _Sports Illustrated_?" Blink sat down on the newly cleaned-off cushion, peering over at the magazine.

"Um, yeah, why?" Mush set the magazines down on the coffee table before propping his feet up, staring at the television.

"Just didn't peg you as a sports-and-bikinis kind of guy. You struck me more as a beefcake-calendar fella." Blink sat back, making himself a little more comfortable; despite his underlying fear of being manhandled again, there was something about Mush's demeanor that made him feel at ease.

"I'm not, really," Mush said as he reached over and flipped off the overhead light, then settled back with a throw pillow in his lap. "Well, at least the bikini thing. Or the beefcake calendar thing, either, come to think of it. I'm a soccer fan, though, and now and then I like to check out football. Hockey's not so bad, either, but mostly I just like to see the fights."

Blink chuckled and nodded. "Me, too," he said, focusing on the screen.

The two boys watched the movie in silence for a while before Mush suddenly pointed at the screen. "You know, that guy kind of looks like you."

"Who?" Blink looked at the television, not seeing whatever it was Mush was referring to.

"The ambiguously gay one in the polo shirt."

"He does not!" Blink scoffed, shaking his head.

"Does too."

"Yeah, well, you look like the one in the headphones. Dean."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Mush laughed, hugging the pillow he held. "And besides, I don't look like Portman. He's built like a brick house, anyway."

"Well, have you looked in the mirror lately?" Blink looked over, smirking. Mush just stared back at him, his mouth hanging partially open. Blink bit his lip and looked back at the screen. "Never mind."

A long time passed in another bout of silence, with tension surrounding Blink so heavily one could almost feel it. Finally, he couldn't stand it any more and decided to say something. "You know, those two are so completely doing it behind the scenes."

"Who?" Mush arched an eyebrow at him, laughing.

"Fulton and Dean. They share a room and they sneak out after curfew for ice cream. They're so doing it. It's like, non-stop hockey love between those two."

"Funny, for a straight guy, you talk about homosexuality a lot." Mush adjusted himself, sinking further down into the couch, while Blink sat, his mouth moving without sound as he tried to come up with a defense for himself.

Fortunately, his cell phone sounded from his pocket into a chorus of "Bat Out of Hell," which scared him at first but then relieved him. As he answered, before he could even say anything, Snitch's voice exploded into his ear.

"Where the hell are you? Are you dead? Did you get kidnapped? You're being ass-raped by a homeless man, aren't you?"

"What?" Blink couldn't help but laugh. "No, Toby, calm down. I'm at my friend's house."

"Liar!"

"How am I a liar?"

"You don't have friends other than me. As your only friend, I think I would know things like this." Snitch heaved a sigh. "Seriously, where the hell are you?"

"Seriously, I'm at my friend's house. I was waiting for you at the racks and he was picking up his bike and invited me over so I wouldn't have to wait outside in the cold for your sorry delinquent ass." Blink looked over at Mush apologetically, who just smiled that little smile of his and shrugged.

"Really. What is this so-called friend's name?" Snitch sounded like the overly-concerned mother on any given prime-time sitcom.

"Adrian... um... hey, what's your last name?"

Mush laughed. "Meyers."

"Adrian Meyers. Everybody apparently calls him Mush."

"Dude, I have phys-ed with him. He kicks my ass at... well, everything. But he completely loves the cock, dude," Snitch added matter-of-factly.

"Says the guy who's become a regular at the local gay club." Blink rolled his good eye, sighing. "So, now that you've checked up on me, Mommy Dearest, do you need anything?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna come pick you up. Where does Mush live?"

Blink gave Snitch directions, though for some reason, he found himself reluctant to do so. Something made him not want to leave, and he didn't know what the hell that was about. Shaking his head to clear the thought, he switched the phone to his other ear. "So when are you going to be here?"

"I don't know, like, ten, fifteen minutes maybe. I'll see you whenever I get there." And Snitch hung up, not bothering to say goodbye as usual.

"You leaving?" Mush stretched on his end of the couch, his puppy-dog brown eyes fixed on Blink.

Blink found himself happy the lights were out so that the burning in his cheeks wasn't so obvious. "Yeah. Snitch is coming to pick me up... apparently he had a mild heart attack when I wasn't waiting for him when he got out of detention."

Mush chuckled. "Snitch is Tobias Tenita, right?"

"Yeah."

"We have P.E. together." Mush picked the remote up, switching off the television. "He always tries to pick a fight with me during weight training. It's like he's trying to prove something."

"That's Snitch for ya," Blink said, smirking, drawing another laugh out of Mush.

"So I think you should come over again." Mush gave him an innocent smile, scratching at the back of his head. "You know, to hang out. And stuff."

"Yeah." Blink nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up more. "Yeah, I will."

A horn honked outside, and both boys stood up. "Okay, well, I guess I'll see you later, then," Blink said, looking towards the door.

Mush clapped a hand to Blink's shoulder, smiling. "Later. Maybe I'll see you at school tomorrow or something." His hand lingered there for just a moment, but it was long enough to make Blink rush out the front door and into Snitch's truck without even bothering to grab his coat.

"Hey," Snitch said, turning down the radio.

"Hey," Blink echoed as he buckled his seatbelt and leaned back in the seat.

"So, you have fun with your new lover?" Blink's best friend and constant tormentor smirked at him, shifting the truck into gear and driving off over the wet snow.

"He's not my lover," Blink muttered, though the slight stiffness forming inside his jeans suggested otherwise.


	6. Pop Goes the Weasel

The next morning, Mush came home from his paper route to see something he had never seen before noon: Jack.

He was sitting at the dining room table, playing air guitar while a bowl of instant oatmeal steamed in front of him. He knew Jack to be a child at heart, so it was safe to assume that his oatmeal contained those colorful mini-marshmallows shaped like dinosaurs in it since it was all he made David get him, although most of the time he refused to actually eat the oatmeal (which was often actually accompanied by a very convincing pout and a bad-tempered "I don't wanna!"), as was proven by the fact that Muffin the kitten was getting the lion's share of Jack's breakfast.

Mush gave him a look of surprise and Jack glanced up, read the look and grinned.

"What?" he asked innocently.

Mush shrugged. "I've never seen you in the morning before. At least, not conscious."

Jack's grin widened. "I know. I hate myself for it. I just wanted to get down here before everyone else."

Mush went into the kitchen to get his own breakfast. The two boys didn't say anything for a while as Mush poured cereal into the porcelain bowl and got milk out of the refrigerator. Finally, the silence was too much for Jack—a boy with a phobia of no one speaking for more than two minutes—and he started babbling.

"I'm just sick of how David treats me sometimes," he said irritably, smacking his spoon down in his bowl for emphasis, despite the fact that he hadn't actually used the spoon. "He treats me like I'm a little kid or something."

Mush came and sat down next to him, nodding but not really sure of what he was saying.

"I mean, I'm _older_ than he is and he refuses to…uh…see that. You know?"

Mush nodded again, wondering why Jack was suddenly confiding in him. This kind of thing was usually reserved for Racetrack, who thrived on hearing about other people's relationship problems. But, then again, it was Jack. The boy just loved the sound of his own voice. He'd probably tell all of this to some homeless man on the street.

As if on cue, David came downstairs with something in a bag and gave Jack an apprehensive look.

"Jack," he said tiredly. "I thought I told you last night to wash the dishes. I swear, you're the laziest person I know."

He set the bag down by Mush's backpack and shook his head. Jack glowered at him.

"Man, if you weren't on the other side of the room right now, I'd so slap you for that."

Mush rose, not really wanting to get into Jack and David's little Ike and Tina Turner-like argument and decided to head off to school early.

"Don't forget the bag."

Mush turned to see David gesturing to the old shopping bag he had laid near his knapsack. "What?"

He rolled his eyes and gave a look to Jack, like, _Can you believe him?_

Mush found it almost funny that when they were arguing, they could still consider him a moron. Almost.

"Your friend's jacket," he explained. "Oh, and take notes for me. I can't come today."

Mush nodded and looked at the jacket. The puffy thing that Blink was wearing. That hid that perfect, athletic body…he got chills just thinking of him. "Thanks, Dave."

"Jack, what are you doing?" David's hands found their way to his hips, which, given the bathrobe and slippers he was wearing, caused him to look not unlike a frustrated housewife. "Why is Muffin eating your oatmeal?"

"Well, clearly, he's hungry."

"He has cat food! Jack, the marshmallows can't be good for him!"

"They're marshmallows. They can't be _bad_ for him."

"Jack, seriously. Either eat your breakfast or do the dishes like I told you to yesterday."

Mush was heading out the door when he heard the argument finally hit its peak.

"I TOLD YOU, THEY'RE SOAKING!"

Yeah, he decided, definitely time to go.

--

"Where do you think you're going, young man?"

Blink stopped in his tracks, his hand resting on the doorknob. "Um... school? Where else would I be going, Mom?"

"Without a coat? It's probably below zero out there! Are you out of your mind?" Blink's mother threw her arms up, a flustered look on her face. "You'll catch pneumonia and die, and then who will be here to take care of me?"

"Mom, I'll be fine. Sni-- Tobias is picking me up. There's heat in his car, it's not like I'm going to freeze to death."

"Baby, you aren't fooling me. I know that the heater in that truck is about as warm as Antarctica in January."

Blink shuffled his feet, staring down at the floor. "It's summer in Antarctica in January." He decided to ignore the fact that his little retort held absolutely no significance at all.

His mother just gave him a withering look and shook her head. "I have a coat you can wear. You'll wear my parka," she said, flouncing toward the closet. "You'll look positively _adorable_ in it, anyway, baby. It'll suit you."

Blink's visible eye widened as he thought of the parka – bright pink with purple rabbit-fur trim. There was _no_ way he could show his face in school wearing that. He'd be shot on sight. "Mom, I'll be okay. Really. I mean, it's not like I'm going to be going outside today or anything... not for more than, like, two seconds, anyway."

"Don't argue with me, pumpkin," Mrs. Wilhelmsson cooed, opening the closet door. "I'm going to keep you safe and healthy if it kills me, which, by the way, I'm surprised it hasn't done yet. Killed me, I mean. You're a lot of work, Blink." She sighed, jutting a hip out as she pawed through the various items in the closet. "Now, where is that parka? ...Here we go!" She pulled the girlie monstrosity out of the closet, swirling around to face Blink.

_AWOOGAH_! The sound of Snitch's horn blared from outside, and Blink felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Well, I'm off! See you tonight, Mom. Love you! Bye!" And he was out the door like a bat out of hell, with his mother chasing after him.

"YOUNG MAN, IF YOU COME HOME DEAD TODAY, I'LL KILL YOU," she shouted after Blink as he hopped into the truck.

"Another loving and harmonious start to the day in the Wilhelmsson household, I take it?" Snitch smirked at Blink as he pulled away from the curb, driving through the snow towards the school.

Blink just glared at him and buckled his seatbelt.

"Blink, where the fuck's your coat?"

"Shut up, Snitch."

--

"Alright then, my little future convicts, I guess that's it for class today... oh, and _please_ don't forget that both your campaign posters and your proposals on Iraqi withdrawal strategies are due this Friday. Absolutely no excuses," Mr. Weisel, the Contemporary World Problems teacher, squawked from his desk as he shoved a ham-and-cheese sandwich into his mouth. "Three pages, single-spaced, twelve-point Times New Roman with one-inch margins. I will know if you try to pull a fast one on me," he added, looking pointedly at Snitch. "Three spaces after each period are far more obvious than you think."

"You got it, Mister Weasel," Snitch chirped with a self-assured smile.

"Tenita!" Mr. Weisel took his feet off his desk and began to rise. "How many times do I have to tell you that if you ever call me--"

The bell rang, and Snitch was off like a rocket, with Blink close behind him, shaking his head. "Snitch, have I told you lately you're an idiot?"

"Not lately, no."

"You're an idiot."

"I love you, too, Blink."

Blink sighed and walked down the hallway toward the cafeteria. "So, how far are you on that Iraq paper?"

"Blink, you are so naïve. Like I'm really going to do that bullshit paper." Snitch smirked and shrugged. "Not like Weasel's going to actually fail me. He wants me out of here too badly."

"I'm going to repeat that to you when you don't graduate."

"Whatever, Blink. Hey, look! There's Holly McCoy." Snitch shook his head and elbowed Blink in the ribcage. "Man, you ever take a gander at the jugs on that chick? They're like a gift from God."

"Yeah, okay, Snitch."

"I'm serious! Have you ever really looked at them? They're... glorious."

"Sure. What do you want for lunch?" Blink hoisted his backpack further up on his shoulder and picked his pace up a little, hoping Snitch would follow suit.

"I think I'm actually gonna go find out what Miss McCoy and her ample bosom are doing Friday night." Snitch shrugged. "Catch you later, dude."

Blink stopped and stammered for a minute. "But what about lunch?"

"I'm sure you can chew without me," Snitch called over his shoulder as he jogged over to Holly and her gaggle of girls. "And don't forget to swallow!"

Blink sighed heavily and shuffled to the cafeteria to find no tables open. After looking around for a moment for anyone he found vaguely familiar, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked out with his shoulders hunched. He walked to the nearest deserted hallway and slumped down against the wall, staring in irritation at an unidentifiable greenish-blackish stain on the gray carpet.

A door at the end of the hallway opened and Blink groaned inwardly. He'd thought he was alone. Though this was the performing arts wing, so it wasn't like any of the band geeks or drama nerds were actually going to speak to him.

"Hey!"

_Shit_.

Footsteps made their way towards him, and Blink looked up into a familiar, caramel-colored face. He felt a strange sense of relief; he was glad it was Mush. That is, he was glad it was Mush and not some pimply-faced band geek wanting him to help out with their fund raiser.

"Hey, Mush... what're you doing back here?"

Mush smiled that big, shiny smile of his. "Oh, um. Choir." He shrugged, and he looked like he might be blushing a little, though Blink couldn't tell whether it was out of pride or embarrassment. "What about you? Are you in drama? No, wait. Let me guess. Do you play the piccolo?"

Blink couldn't help but laugh, although he laughed perhaps a little bit louder than was appropriate for the joke. "No, uh, I'm hiding."

A perplexed look came over Mush's face. "Hiding from what? The feds after you or something?"

"No, it's just... Snitch abandoned me and I didn't want to have to sit in the cafeteria by myself, so I came back here because it was less likely for someone to bother me."

"Sorry, am I bothering you?"

Blink smiled and shook his head. "No. No, you're pretty much the only person who's not bothering me right now."  
Mush bit his lower lip, smiling. He sat down beside Blink and rested his arms on his knees, looking over at his friend. "So where's your other half?"

"Trying to score with Holly McCoy and her 'glorious jugs.'" Blink sighed and shook his head, rolling his eye.

"Holly McCoy?" Mush snickered. "Well, I'd like to see him manage that."

"I know. I bet half the football team is going to kick his ass for even looking at her."

"Well, yeah, that and the fact that she is more a fan of the vagina might hinder his progress a little." Mush smirked.

Blink nearly choked on his own spit and looked over at Mush, wide-eyed. "What? Holly McCoy's a lesbian?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Mush said as he began to giggle.

"Well, they're meant for each other, then... her and Snitch, I mean, because I'm pretty sure he's denying the fact that he's really gay," Blink said between chuckles.

"Again with the gay comments, Blink," Mush sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "You're awfully obsessed for a supposedly straight guy."

"Well, see, the thing with it is, it's like a sixth sense for me." Blink smirked.

"What is?"

"I have a finely-tuned gaydar."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Mush was grinning now, and Blink found himself grinning back involuntarily.

"Yeah, I do. It's impeccable, really."

"Really? Care to prove it?"

Blink smirked. "Well, see, I knew the minute I walked into the club for the first time... that everyone there was gay."

Mush burst out laughing. "Wow, Blink. That really is incredible. You should have your own television show."

Blink began to laugh with Mush, realizing what an idiot he just made himself appear to be. He sighed when the bell rang to signal the end of lunch and pushed himself to his feet, smiling down at Mush. "Well, thanks for hanging out with me, Mush. Um... I appreciate it."

That hint of a blush came back into Mush's cheeks as he stood up. "It's nothing, Blink. Thanks for putting up with me." He smiled a little shyly and then looked down at his shoes. "What class do you have next?"

"Health," Blink said, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. "You?"

"Gym. So, uh, I guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah, later." Blink turned and headed in the direction of his health class before Mush called his name again. He spun back around to see Mush jogging toward him, reaching into his backpack.

"You, um, you left your coat at my house yesterday," Mush said, handing him a bag.

"Oh!" Blink smiled gratefully. "Thanks a lot... I was wondering what I'd done with it."

"Yeah. David found it this morning. Anyway, um, I'll talk to you later."

"Hey, Mush?" Blink tucked the bag under his arm and looked into Mush's eyes. "Uh, who do you have for CWP?"

Mush rolled his pretty brown eyes. "Weisel. Why?"

"You wanna go to the library with me after school and work on that paper? I really need to finish it and I don't want to have to do it by myself... and God knows Snitch isn't going to do it."

Mush's face lit up so quickly he couldn't even try to hide it. "I'd love to!" His voice squeaked a little, and he cleared his throat. "Um... wh-where did you want to meet?"

Blink shrugged. "Bike racks, right after school?"

"Sounds good." Mush nodded, that smile spreading across his face again. "I'll see you then. But I really have to get to gym, or Mister Gaines is going to kick my ass."

"Okay. See you after school. Bye, Mush."

"Bye, Blink!" Mush turned and hurried up the hallway toward the gym, and Blink wasn't sure why, but he couldn't help but stand and watch him walk away.

--

When two o'clock rolled around, Mush could barely stand being in class any longer. He tried to convince himself that he was just excited that he was doing something other than sitting at home and watching _Under the Tuscan Sun_ with Racetrack for the eight hundred and sixty-fifth time, or that he was happy to have someone help him with his CWP project (which, admittedly, he almost had done, he just had a closing paragraph to write up), but deep down he knew that it was really because he had a crush on Blink. A full-fledged infatuation, complete with butterflies in his stomach and quite a few sleepless nights. He had even caught himself absentmindedly doodling Blink's name in his geometry notebook on more than one occasion.

And now they were spending time together after school. Alone. Well, okay, not _alone_ alone, but the library pretty much left you isolated from anyone else, so it would provide for a lot of one-on-one time. Mush had a vision in his head of Blink leaning over his shoulder, reading his paper and stopping to correct the spelling of one of the words. Mush would look up at him and smile, thanking him and telling him he was really smart, and Blink would smile back and their gazes would lock and linger for a moment before they would slowly close in on each other and...

_Rrrrring_! Mush was snapped rudely back to reality, glancing up at the clock. Two-oh-five. Sweet freedom! He hurriedly scooped up all his belongings and rushed out of class, practically sprinting through the hallway and down the stairs to the foyer. He stopped a moment to catch his breath and shove his notebooks into his backpack, then strolled coolly out to the bike racks.

Blink hadn't quite gotten there yet, but Mush didn't mind waiting. It gave him time to come up with something suave and charming and witty to say when Blink arrived. Something that would make Blink realize that he really _wasn't_ as straight as he thought as he was and that Mush was, in fact, the right guy for him. Something that would ultimately win him over so they could be together forever and...

"Hey, Mush."

"Jesus!" Mush nearly jumped out of his shoes. He turned around to see Blink and let out a breathless laugh. So much for charming and witty.

"You can call me Blink." Blink grinned and zipped his coat up.

"You scared me," he said, his face twisting into a slight pout for just a second.

"Sorry." Blink patted Mush on the shoulder and shrugged. "You ready to go? I wanna get to the library before the homeless people start coming in for the night."

--

It was nearly silent in the library, with only the occasional punctuation of fluttering pages and tapping keyboards. There were hardly any people inside, save for a cluster of college students thoroughly engrossed in their thick textbooks and a few tired citizens fighting off the cold for a while with an uncomfortable armchair and a well-worn book.

The snow was falling outside, glistening in the glow of the streetlights, and the sky was darkened to that snowy, dim nighttime lighting, but no one seemed to notice. It was warm inside, and with the silence, it actually seemed calm.

"Finally," Blink muttered as he set his pen down, massaging his right hand and sighing in triumph.

Mush pretended to be looking at something else for a moment and then looked back at Blink. He'd finished his paper over an hour ago and had been staring inconspicuously at Blink from over the top of his geometry textbook for almost as long. He couldn't help that Blink was so freaking cute when he worked, the way he'd get this crease between his eyebrows and would readjust the strap on his eye patch about every five minutes. Mush smiled a little. "Finished?"

"Yeah," Blink grunted as he stretched. "This son-of-a-bitch assignment is out of my life forever." He flashed an exhausted smile, scratching the back of his neck.

Mush laughed a little and nodded. "Yeah, it was kinda hard, wasn't it?" When Blink nodded, he set down his textbook and leaned back in his chair. "What'd you say in yours?"

"Basically, I said we should stay in Iraq until we kill all the worthless camel jockeys and turn it into another one of the states in grand old America," Blink said with a shrug.

Mush creased his brows together, confused. "Well... I'm sure... that you'll get an A on that, at least." In his head, he asked himself how someone as great as Blink could be so full of hate and such a... _bigot_.

Blink looked at Mush's face for a minute, trying to read it, then gasped. "No, no, Mush, that's not what I _really_ think!" He dragged a hand through his hair; he looked adorable when he was flustered.

"Oh... well, what _do_ you think, then? And why would you write a paper like that if that's not what you thought? It's supposed to be a proposal on withdrawing from Iraq in a way _you_ think would be appropriate."

"See, Mush, I've learned to really _work_ Mister Weisel. You've got to cater to is ultra-conservative, gun-toting, flag-waving, Republican tastes. This way, I didn't have to do a lot of thinking, I just had to fill up three pages with bullshit and he'll be happy. It doesn't make a lick of sense, but he won't even notice, because he'll be so thrilled that not everyone in our generation is lost to the mental disorder of liberalism." There was that smile again, smooth and easy and just a little cocky.

Mush cocked his head to the side slightly, his face still twisted in confusion. Suddenly, his expression softened, and he began to laugh. "Blink, you are a genius."

"Oh, I know."

"Excuse me, boys," the librarian said softly as she approached their table. "The library is closing now, and you'll have to go home." Her smile was sweet, and both boys smiled back before gathering up their belongings.

As the boys stepped out into the snow, Blink looked down at his watch. "Wow, I didn't realize it was this late," he said.

"What time is it?"

"Eight-oh-two."

"We spent five-and-a-half hours at the library?"

Blink laughed. "Yeah, apparently. Aren't we just good little schoolboys?"

"I guess we are," Mush said with a chuckle. "So, you need to get home right away then, huh?"

Shrugging, Blink shook his head and smirked at the snowflakes that tumbled out of his hair. "Nah. My mom would've called by now if she was worried about me. She's probably asleep in front of _General Hospital_ reruns on the soap channel at this point. And she probably won't wake up until tomorrow morning, so we're golden. No curfew tonight for Blink."

"Oh." Mush nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets and wondering where he'd put his gloves. "Well, you want to go get something for dinner or... something?" Immediately after the words left his mouth, Mush regretted asking. Why on Earth would a guy like Blink want to go to dinner with a guy like him? Blink probably had something better to do, something _straight_ to do, like... lift weights or... watch porn... or something. Except Mush liked to allow himself to think that Blink wouldn't ever watch porn. He was way too classy for that. But anyway, Mush thought, the idea that he would want to go out and be seen in public with him was almost laughable.

"Sure."

"Really?" Mush's voice cracked on the first syllable of the word, giving away his shock and excitement. He cleared his throat and tried to pass it off as his throat being dry, but deep down, he know the damage had already been done.

Blink looked at him, his eyebrows knitted together in what might have been confusion or perhaps disgust... Mush was betting on the latter. "Yeah... unless you were just asking me as a courtesy, and didn't really want me to go..."

Mush laughed. "What?"

"You know, how like when you ask people how they are, and you don't really want to know, and then they say they're bad or miserable or shitty or whatever, and then you have to stand there and listen to them complain about their crappy lives and really, you just want to go home and crack open a beer and fall asleep on the couch. Is this one of those things?"

"No... well... maybe... I... I don't know, Blink, you lost me about five words in." Mush scratched his head and raised his eyebrows helplessly.

Chuckling, Blink threw his arm around Mush's shoulders. "Where do you want to go for dinner?"

"There's a twenty-four-hour diner just a couple blocks away. They have good cheeseburgers, but that's about the only safe thing to eat."

"It's a good thing I like cheeseburgers, then." Blink smirked.

"Great." Mush smiled back at Blink. "My treat."

"I knew I liked you, Mush," Blink said, standing with him for a moment before biting his lip and hurriedly bringing his arm back down to his side. "So, um... let's go."

--

Blink sat back and exhaled heavily, blinking sleepily at his empty dinner plate. "Man. I am full."

"Me, too," Mush said, pushing his plate away from him in disgust, though there was nothing on it but a few stray French fries. He let out a huge yawn and ran his hands over his face, groaning. "What time is it?"

Blink looked at his watch and let out a whistle of surprise. "Wow. Quarter after eleven."

"Crap." Mush stood up, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. "You should get home, shouldn't you?"

"Well, in theory, but my mom is paranoid about me losing my house keys and someone breaking into the house, so she won't give me a house key. I can call Snitch, though, and crash at his place tonight." Blink shrugged and stood up, stretching his arms up over his head.

"You don't have to do that, Blink," Mush said, picking up the bill. "Just stay at my place tonight. You can sleep in my bed, and I'll sleep on the couch. Well, more likely the floor, because Race is probably camped out on the couch with _Sex and the City_ by now, but still. Stay at my place. You can borrow clothes in the morning if you need."

"Well..." Blink thought about it for a moment. It kept him from having to face Snitch's mother and her huge Romanian breakfasts, and it kept him from freezing to death that night. What was there to lose? "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Mush."


End file.
